Storm Rising - A Kelli Storm Novel

- Title Page

- CHAPTER ONE

- CHAPTER TWO

- CHAPTER THREE

Storm Rising

A Kelli Storm Novel

Published by Kenneth Hoss at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Kenneth J Hoss

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and you did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements

To Carolyn Arnold and Jennifer Schubert, you guys are the greatest.

To Instructor Joe, without whose technical expertise this book would never have seen the light of day.

Cover Art by George Arnold – Copyright 2011

Storm Rising – A Kelli Storm Novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

WARNING – Adult Content

CHAPTER ONE

Friday August 14, 4:45 P.M. Washington Heights

West 171st and Saint Nicholas Avenue

Detective Kelli Storm sat quietly behind the wheel of the unmarked sedan, watching the street in front of her. Her new partner, Bill Hayes, sat next to her fidgeting with his watch band. Her street snitch, Benny, was thirty minutes late. A city bus rolled by, black smoke billowing from its exhaust, permeating the air with the stench of diesel.

It was hot and muggy, and she was getting impatient. She spotted Benny coming down the street. He had called her earlier and said he had some information on Carlos Rodriguez. Carlos was a high ranking member of the Dominicans Don’t Play, a small time drug gang, mostly dealing in marijuana. He was also a prime suspect in at least three murders.

Benny crossed the street as the bus passed. It’s about time. She shifted restlessly in her seat, waiting for the man to get in. The little man approached, glancing furtively to see if he were being watched. He got into the backseat and slid across the vinyl to the center.

Kelli turned in her seat to face the mousy little man, his black hair matted on his forehead. “Okay, Benny, what have you got for me?”

“This guy you’re lookin’ for, Carlos Rodriguez, I seen him over on West 175th, at this apartment building.”

“And you’re sure it was Rodriguez?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. He’s got this snake tattoo on his right arm.”

“Was he with anyone?”

“He was with some girl, looked like maybe his girlfriend. They was kind of hanging on each other. They came out of that place on the corner, headed straight to the building. I hung back and then followed him and saw what apartment he went into.”

“You remember anything else? Like maybe any of his buddies hanging around, someone standing out front, like they were watching the street?”

“No, I didn’t see no one else. Just him and that girl, that’s all. You gonna arrest him?”

“Not at the moment, I just want to pick him up for questioning.”

“Question him about what? You gotta know this guy is dirty, right?”

She knew he was dirty. The problem was getting any kind of hard evidence. Carlos Rodriguez was one smart son of a bitch.

“Yes, Benny, I know he’s dirty.”

“Well, if you’re gonna pick him up, you might wanna wait. He ain’t there now.”

Up until now, Bill had been silent. “What do you mean he’s not there now? Where is he, Benny?” He asked, his eyes focused on the snitch.

“He always goes out to Coney Island on Fridays, meets someone, I don’t know.”

“And you know this how, Benny?” Kelli asked.

“I asked the super. He said he sees the guy leave at noon every Friday. One time he overheard the guy on his cell phone, telling somebody he’d meet ‘em on the boardwalk.”

“You talked to the super? What were you thinking? If he tips off Carlos, you know what’s going to happen, don’t you Benito?” Her tone was cold as she stared at the little man.

“I swear detective, I was cool about it. The super said the guy goes out there every Friday. He leaves at noon, and gets back by six. It’s a regular thing with him.”

“Okay, Benny, I believe you, this time. Here you go.” she said, holding up two folded twenties.

“Thanks Detective, you’re the best.” He leaned forward and snatched the folded bills, squirreling then away in his jeans pocket.

It surprised her that Benny hadn’t asked for more. The little weasel usually wanted at least a hundred for this kind of information.

Benny leaned forward over the seat back, his face next to hers. “You watch out for this guy, he’s a crazy motherfucker.”

His rancid breath assaulted Kelli’s nose, she turned away, and almost gagged. She could tell the man hadn’t brushed in days, if ever.

“Yeah, okay, now get out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’.”

She turned to Bill. “So, what do you think our next step should be partner? Maybe we should take a ride out to the 6-1?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. We can see what they’ve got on him. It’s worth a drive at least.”

“I’m kind of curious to see what Rodriguez is up to in Coney Island,” she said, starting the car.

“You know, I think one of the detectives in the PDU had something going on this guy. I even had a couple of bust where his name came up, but we never got anything solid on him.”

“That sounds like Carlos. He’s an elusive son of a bitch. What’s the name of this detective?”

“Green, David Green. I didn’t know him that well, but from what I heard, he’s got his shit together.”

“I’d like to meet this guy. So, how did you like the 6-1?”

“Good. I liked working narcotics, but you can only take so much. Busting skels all the time gets old, and the more you get off the street, the more pop up to take their place.”

“Never ending battle, right?

“You got that right.”

“Let’s head back to the squad, brief the boss. Then we’ll head out there.”

“So, you checked me out? Do you do that will all your partners?

“No, you’re the first new partner I’ve had since I got on the squad. My last partner was on the job for twelve years. He did the same thing to me when I got bumped up.”

“Mind if I ask what happened to him?”

“Yes. I do.”

She put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. She wasn’t going to discuss it. It was still too fresh.

Friday August 14, 5:52 P.M. Washington Heights

West 175th Street - Apartment Building of Carlos Rodriguez

Kelli pulled up and backed into a parking spot on West 175th, a half a block down from the six-story tenement. She put the car in park and killed the engine.

Instead of going out to Coney Island, they spent the rest of the afternoon down at the precinct, briefing the boss and giving Bill a chance to settle in.

She phoned the 6-1 and spoke to Detective Green who said he had been watching Rodriguez for about a year. According to Green, Rodriguez was suspected in at least six homicides, three of which had been rival gang members. The problem was they had no physical evidence.

They had several witnesses, but the people were too afraid to make a positive identification. Green asked her what she had on Rodriguez and she shared what information she had on file. Rodriguez was one of the worst. He was smart and dangerous. A deadly combination.

Rodriguez was a suspect in more than a dozen cases now, mostly drugs, marijuana being the drug of choice. She had four open homicide cases, and three of them were linked to Rodriguez. She just hadn’t been able to pin anything on him.

She set things up with the Squad. Harris and Yablonski would meet Bill and her at six. She then checked with the Desk Sergeant and arranged to have an Radio Motor Patrol meet her at the apartment building at six-fifteen. She wanted to give Rodriguez time to settle before they picked him up.

She looked over at Bill. His eyes were glued to the building down the street. A grin crept onto her face. She could see that he was genuinely excited about this case. She just hoped he didn’t get too excited.

“So, partner, what are you thinking?”

Bill glanced over at her, a puzzled look on his face, quickly replaced with a toothy grin. “Oh. I guess I was just wondering what it’s going to be like. When I was on narcotics, it was mostly making buys and busting street dealers. This is a whole different ball game.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine,” she said, smiling.

“What time have you got? I think my watch is running slow.”

“About two minutes to six.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s not slow after all. When do you think this scumbag will show?”

“Hard to say, but if Benny’s info is good, it should be any minute now.”

As if on cue, Kelli spotted an Escalade pull up and back in to a space across the street. Rodriguez was driving, and he wasn’t alone. Shit! In the car with Rodriguez were four other men and they didn’t look like Boy Scouts.

“Okay, Bill, here we go. We’ll just sit tight, wait for our backup. When they show, we’ll go in, take Rodriguez in his apartment. I just hope it doesn’t get messy.” She knew he wouldn’t come easy, guys like him never did.

Kelli picked up her cell phone and called the squad, the guys were late. This was going to be a tough one, Rodriguez’s reputation preceded him, and he was one nasty motherfucker. With links to the Columbian crime cartel, the DDP and its members had a reputation, and they lived by it.

She had called Detective Davis in the Narcotics Division earlier, to see if they had Rodriguez under surveillance. Davis informed her that they didn’t at the time. She explained what she had going and wanted to make sure she wasn’t stepping on any toes. Davis assured her she wasn’t and if she could take the son of a bitch down, to do it.

It took five rings before someone answered.

“33rd Precinct Detective Unit. Detective Harris.”

“Tom, this is Kelli, where are you guys? Rodriguez just pulled up, and he’s got a crew with him.”

“We were just getting ready to leave. We should be there in five.”

“Well hurry your ass up.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. We’re on our way. What are we lookin’ at?”

“He has four guys with him. I don’t know, maybe he’s having some kind of meet. I just know this asshole isn’t going without a fight.”

“Okay Storm, calm down. I’ll grab Yablonski and we’ll be there. What about the RMP? Is it there yet?”

“No, they’re not due to be here for another fifteen minutes. You just get your ass in gear. I don’t want to lose Rodriguez. And if we can collar these other scumbags, well, that would be a bonus.”

She hung up and sat back, keeping her eyes on the apartment building. Bill was fidgeting with his watch, glancing at it every few seconds.

“Hey partner, take it easy, that won’t make them get here any faster.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s not that. I just don’t want us to lose this guy either. I know we’re supposed to wait for backup, but what happens if they aren’t here and this guy takes off?”

“Then we follow him, see where he goes. When he gets to where he’s going, we call our guys and bust him there. We never go without backup. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know. Got to have backup, can’t take him without it. I got it.”

“Look, when we go in, I want you to bring up the rear. You got that?”

“But…”

“No buts, that’s my rule for new partners.”

*****

The four detectives and two patrol officers made their way to the front of the building. Bill brought up the rear as Kelli had instructed.

As they approached the front door, Kelli saw the four men that had gone in with Rodriguez. They were coming down the hallway. She motioned for the others to move off to the side. They all moved back, pressing up against the building. She raised four fingers and pointed to the door, indicating she had spotted the four men coming out.

The first man was well ahead and walking backward, talking to the others. Kelli waited for him to clear the doorway and grabbed him by the left arm, slamming him into the wall. The other three saw this and came running out, only to find themselves face to face with the six officers, their weapons drawn.

The man she had thrown up against the wall whirled and sneered, “Bitch!” he said, and spit at her.

Kelli wiped the spit from her cheek, readjusted her aim, and pointed the Glock 19 at the man’s crotch. “Want to try that again, asshole?”

The man backed up and joined the other three, keeping his eyes on the Glock. “What you want? We ain’t done nothin’.”

“Maybe you didn’t, but you did get out of that Escalade over there. You were with Carlos Rodriguez. You want to tell me what you’re doing with him?” she said, lowering the Glock.

“I ain’t got to tell you shit.”

“The rest of you feel the same way?” She looked around at the other men. In unison, they each crossed their arms and shook their heads.

“They ain’t got nothin’ to say either.”

“Well maybe you’ll be a little more cooperative down at the precinct.” She motioned for the two patrol officers.

“Officers, take care of these gentlemen. You can put two of them in my car. We’ll wait here until you have them situated.”

The two nodded and lined the four men up against the wall, searching them and putting them in handcuffs. Kelli and the other detectives stood by as the officers placed two of the men in her car, and the other two in the RMP. When they returned, the six of them went into the building and made their way to the fourth floor.

She really wanted to get Rodriguez. She didn’t have anything solid on the bastard, but she hoped that what she did have would be enough to rattle his cage.

CHAPTER TWO

Saturday August 15, 8:50 A.M. Yonkers

Home of Catherine Storm

Kelli stretched and yawned wide, it had been a late night and she hadn’t gotten home until after midnight. The four men they had grabbed outside of Rodriguez’s apartment building had been a bust, only one of was dumb enough to be carrying, and that had been less than an ounce of marijuana.

When she and the other detectives got to the apartment, Rodriquez was gone, and his girlfriend wasn’t giving him up.

That really pissed her off. After all that crap, the scumbag wasn’t even there. When she got back downstairs, she saw that Rodriguez’s Escalade was still parked out front, which meant he couldn’t have gone far. Rather than wait around to see if he would show again, she called Traffic and had them boot the vehicle, which would really piss him off.

She got back to the Squad around seven and her mood was a not any lighter. She pulled the first man out of holding and set him in interrogation. Harris took the dumbass with the dope. Because the guy didn’t have any prior bust, the most that would happen is that he would pay a fine. Without any real leverage, the guy kept his mouth shut.

She questioned her guy, Pedro Cruz, for more than two hours, but the little bastard wouldn’t give in either. She hadn’t expected any of them to roll on Rodriguez, but she had hoped to find a weak link. She would just keep pushing, even if she had to bust every dealer in the city. Sooner or later he would slip and she would be there to bust him.

She got out of bed, put on her robe and slippers, and walked downstairs to the kitchen. Her mother was there, making breakfast. A traditional Irish breakfast.

Her mother had made the same breakfast that fateful Sunday morning. Bangers, one half of a grilled tomato, two eggs over easy and two slices of fresh brown soda bread. And of course, it wouldn’t have been a proper breakfast without a steaming cup of Irish tea. That was her mother, traditional Irish through and through.

Kelli walked in, taking in the aromas and it stirred memories of her father. He had loved her mother’s cooking, especially breakfast. It had been twenty-one years ago today that he had been taken from them, gunned down on a quiet Sunday morning, on their way to church.

Her mother had left early that morning, for choir. Kelli and her father followed about an hour later. She had always looked forward to Sundays. It was one of the few days that her father took time off from his job. He was a detective in the 34th Precinct, working homicide, and he was good at his job.

Her last memories of him came flooding back. He had been holding her hand and she was skipping along side, then his hand had left hers. She remembered kneeling next to him, tears streaming down her cheeks, begging him to wake up.

Her mom turned and smiled as Kelli entered the kitchen.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Would you like some tea?”

“Hmmm, yes please. Breakfast smells good. I see you’re making Dad’s favorite,” she said, feeling a twinge of anguish.

It was something her mom did on the anniversary of his death, waiting for him to come down the stairs. Kelli knew that her mother still missed him, even after all these years.

“Come on sweetheart, sit and drink your tea. I’ll get you a plate. Do you want bangers too? I got them fresh yesterday afternoon at the market.”

“Sure mom, that sounds good.”

*****

After their annual visit to her father’s grave, Kelli helped her mother up the stairs and to her bedroom. The morning had taken its toll on her. Though her mother was only fifty-eight, today she seemed much older.

Kelli got her into bed, kissed her gently on the forehead, and told her to rest. She tiptoed out and closed the door, making as little noise as possible. With that done, she walked to the end of the hall and climbed the attic stairs.

This was her sanctuary, her quiet place. She had copies of her father’s old cases, his notes and anything else she had been able to get her hands on. The department frowned on officers working cases on their own time. This was her father’s case and his killer or killers were still out there.

She had a whiteboard and several corkboards set up and had them covered with all the possible leads. However, to date, not one of them had panned out.

It was frustrating her, not being able to find his killers. They were still out there. What frustrated her the most was not being able to bring her mother some peace.

Losing her last partner, Ron Williams, had taken its toll on Kelli too. It had been so senseless. Ron had been shot and killed by a perp suspected in an armed robbery. The victim had been shot and had died two days later. That made it a homicide, putting the ball in their court.

They tracked the guy to an apartment in the East Village. When they pulled up, they saw the man walking toward them, a second man with him. The suspect spotted them and ran. The second man took off in another direction.

Ron chased the suspect and told her to go after the other man. After a four block chase, she got her guy and took him back to the car. When she saw that Ron wasn’t back, she got on her radio and called him. When he didn’t respond, she raced down the street in the direction he had taken, calling out for him.

She had found him in an alley, lying on his back in a pile of garbage, his chest covered in blood. She tried to save him, performing CPR, but it had been no use. When EMS arrived, they did all they could, but it was too late.

She had spent the next three weeks tracking Ron’s killer, finally locating the scumbag and his girlfriend. They were hiding out in a fleabag motel in East New York.

She and three other detectives, along with the ESU had approached the room. They announced themselves and kicked in the door. The man started shooting. In the subsequent moments, the perp and his girlfriend were killed, leaving the room a bloody mess.

After that, she threw herself into work, going for days without sleep. It wasn’t until her boss forced her that she had gone to the department shrink, to work out her issues. She had spent five weeks in counseling, finally being cleared for duty. It was hard for her to believe that it had only been three months since his death.

She sat down at the old desk and ran her hand over the wood. It belonged to her father and held so many memories. This had been his sanctuary and she remembered sneaking up here as a child. At eight, she already knew what she wanted to be when she grew up. She wanted to be a detective just like her father.

She put the memories out of her head and dug into the pile of folders. She knew there had to be something she had missed, some little clue. Just one missing piece of the puzzle was all she needed. The only solid lead she, or the department, had ever had was the ballistics report.

The bullet that killed her father had come from a 9mm Beretta, but the gun had never been recovered. It had never been connected to any other crime either. It was just another dead end. The case had been investigated for a year, but with all of their leads exhausted, the department had reluctantly set it aside.

When she joined the department at twenty-two, she had looked up her dad’s old partner, Joe Donaldson. Joe was retired, but still had his connections at the 3-4. At first, Joe was reluctant and warned her it was against policy. It took a few days, but she wore him down. Not only did Joe get her the case file, he had brought her all of her dad’s notes along with several of his old cases.

After nine years of digging, she was no closer to finding out who killed her father. She suspected, as had the department, that there had been at least two people involved. Witnesses reported a black sedan speeding away from the scene. Yet no one had been able to get the plate number. She was only ten at the time and remembered nothing of the car, only that her father would not wake up.

Too much time had passed. Witnesses had died or moved away. The ones she had been able to locate were not much help, their memories faded. The pieces she had managed to pick up were more of a jigsaw and none of them really fit together.

She heard a noise downstairs and looked at her watch. Damn, I’ve been up here for two hours. She pushed back from the desk and stood, closing the file she had been looking over. It was three-thirty and her mom would want tea.

Monday August 17, 7:43 A.M. Washington Heights

33rd Precinct, Precinct Detective Unit

Kelli sat at her desk, going over the case files from Friday night. The other detectives had Bill corralled on the other side of the squad room. They were giving the rookie the usual welcoming, regaling him with their war stories.

She could hear Harris laugh, and she knew what story he was telling the new detective. They had given her the same welcome when she had first arrived, and over the years, the stories got bigger and better.

It got quiet and she looked up from her desk, the lieutenant had come out of his office. It was time to find out what the previous night had brought them.

“Okay, listen up, we got one this morning. Street dealer, found over on West 173rd, at the park. Storm, Hayes, you two got this one. The victim has been identified as one Pedro Cruz.”

“We just had him in here Friday night. Son of a bitch.” she said, shaking her head.

“Uniforms and the ME are on the scene, you two get moving. This thing isn’t going to solve itself.”

“Right boss, we’re on it. Come on partner.” she said, motioning to Bill.

Monday August 17, 8:15 A.M. Washington Heights

Jay Hood Wright Park

Kelli approached the scene, taking in every detail. She could see the body of Pedro Cruz lying on a rock outcropping, blood pooled around his torso. The uniforms had already taped off the area and the ME was there, taking pictures and processing the scene.

“Who discovered the body?” she asked one of the uniforms.

“That guy over there.” The officer pointed to an older man holding the leash of a Jack Russell terrier. “We’ve already taken his statement.”

“Good, I’ll need a copy. Anything else?”

“No detective.”

“I don’t suppose our dog walker saw anyone, like maybe who did this.”

“He said he was walking his dog this morning and came across the body. Said he called us right away.”

“Yeah, thanks. Come on Bill, let’s take a look,” she said and started walking toward the body.

Cruz’s throat had been slit from ear to ear and blood covered the rock under and around him. Kelli immediately noticed another thing. The man’s tongue was sticking out of the gash in his neck.

“What do you see partner?” she said, looking over at Bill.

“Well, I can see that his throat was slit. And from the amount of blood, I’d say that he was killed here.”

“What else?”

Bill studied the body, scanning from head to toe. “His tongue, it’s sticking out of his throat.”

“Right. A Columbian necktie. Somebody’s trying to send a message.”

“But why? This guy didn’t say shit the other night.”

“I know, and it makes me curious. Why would Rodriguez or the DDP want to kill Cruz? Unless he was thinking about ratting out Carlos.”

“Yeah, well, he sure as hell isn’t talking now.”

Kelli looked at Bill and sighed. “Funny partner, real funny.”

CHAPTER THREE

Tuesday August 18, 11:50 A.M. New York City

Office of the Chief Medical Examiner

Kelli walked into the autopsy room, with Bill close behind. Even though this wasn’t her first trip down here, the smell of the place always got to her. The medical examiner, Jack Hastings, was standing over the body of Pedro Cruz, collecting trace from the fingernails of his right hand.

“Good morning, Doc. What have you got for us?”

The ME continued with his task, not bothering to look up.

“Well, not much so far. I have to get this stuff over to trace and then it could take a while before I get anything back.”

Kelli looked over at Bill and shook her head. Bill was turning pale, which seemed odd, after seeing the body at the park.

“You okay partner?”

“Huh? Yeah, no problem.”

She tilted her head toward the back of the room, “Well, if you have to toss it, the sink is behind you.”

The ME had finished with Cruz’s right hand and walked to the other side of the table. It was at this point that Bill lost it, and rushed for the sink. The ME had been blocking most of the body and it was now in full view. The chest cavity had been cut open, exposing the internal organs.

Kelli approached the table and leaned in for a closer look at the neck wound. She concentrated on the throat, attempting to block out the sound of her partner heaving.

“So, Doc, can you give me COD? I know his throat was sliced open, but is that what killed him?”

“Well, after my examination, I can safely say that COD was exsanguination. There were several minor cuts and bruises, but none were terminal.”

“The guy had the crap beat out of him and then got his throat slit?”

“It looks that way. The killer used an extremely sharp object, probably a knife. Judging by the wound track, I’d have to say it was approximately four inches long and double-edged.”

“What about the tongue? Was it pulled through the wound?”

“No, it was cut out, so, it wasn’t a true necktie. I’ve seen more than my share and this was more of an afterthought.”

She bent over the corpse, taking a closer look at the neck wound. The cut was deep enough, but didn’t have the width, as it didn’t reach either ear. A true necktie was high on the neck and usually started and ended just below each ear. This cut was done in haste and made low on the neck.

The ME held up a small jar and handed it to her.

“As you can see, it was a clean cut, no jagged edges. The killer most likely used the same knife to cut his throat, though I can’t say for sure. And what’s worse, I believe this was done perimortem.”

“The guy was still alive when they cut it out?”

Bill had just joined them and upon hearing this, immediately turned, and headed back to the sink. Kelli couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle and the ME followed suit.

She looked at the ME and shook her head, “Poor guy. I figured he was tougher than this.”

“I seem to recall you didn’t do so well at your first autopsy,” he said, a wry smile on his face.

“Keep it down, Jack. I don’t need my partner hearing that.”

The ME raised his right hand and made an X motion over his heart, “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks, Jack, I appreciate it. Is there anything else?”

“Not until his tox screen comes back. The lab is backed up, so it may be a few days on that. I’ll get everything else over to trace.”

“Thanks, Doc.” She looked over at Bill, who was wiping his face. “Come on partner, we’re heading back to the squad.”

Tuesday August 18, 12:42 P.M. Washington Heights

33rd Precinct, Precinct Detective Unit

Kelli plopped down in her chair. It had been a long morning. After leaving the crime scene yesterday, she and Bill drove over the apartment building on West 175th, looking for Carlos. The Escalade was nowhere to be seen and neither was Carlos.

She knew in her gut that Rodriguez had a hand in this, having either ordered it, or cutting the man’s throat himself. CSU had collected everything at the scene, down to the smallest scrap of paper. She could only hope that something would come up, connect Rodriguez to the murder.

“Hey Kelli, you okay?”

She sat up straight, a little startled. “Oh, yeah, I was just thinking.”

“Sorry, it looked like you had dozed off. Any ideas on how we’re going to get this scumbag?”

“No, and that’s what pisses me off. I know Rodriguez did this, or at least ordered it. But the son of a bitch is too smart.”

“Well, maybe he slipped up this time. Maybe we’ll catch a break.”

“Yeah, and maybe the Mets will win the World Series this year.”

“Why so pessimistic? The guy can’t be that good. Everybody makes mistakes, even Rodriguez.”

She looked up at Bill, his eyes held a hint of disbelief. “You’re right partner, sorry. It’s just that I’ve been after this son of a bitch for so long, I guess it’s getting to me.”

“You know you can’t give up. Guys like him belong behind bars, not out on the streets killing people.”

“Yeah, and this makes seven, that we know of anyway. Thanks partner, I needed that. Now let’s go and find this bastard.”

“Anytime.”

Tuesday August 18, 1:05 P.M. Washington Heights

West 175th Street - Apartment Building of Carlos Rodriguez

Kelli turned the corner onto West 175th, the apartment building on their right. The black Escalade was parked on the right, about a half a block up. She drove up slowly, watching the building’s entrance and stopped in front of the Escalade. She half smiled, seeing the marking from where the boot had been.

She looked over at Bill. He was watching the building for any signs of movement from the front. “Bill. What do you say we get some people down here? Maybe we can catch the son of a bitch this time.”

“You want to get ESU? No telling if Rodriguez has a lager crew with him this time.”

“No, we don’t have enough to warrant getting ESU involved. I’ll call the squad and you get us an RMP over here.”

She found a spot further up on the left and backed in. Bill was already on the phone to the Desk Sergeant by the time she parked. She pulled her phone out and called the Squad.

Yablonski answered. “33rd Precinct Detective Unit, Yablonski.”

“Stan, this is Kelli. I’m over on West 175th and need some backup. Rodriguez is here and I don’t want to lose him again. Who’s in the office?”

“Just Harris and me. The rest of the squad is out on cases.”

“Well, I need both of you, fast. I spotted Rodriquez’s Escalade. It’s here at that building we hit Friday night. You and Harris get here fast. I don’t want a repeat of that night.”

“Sure, what’s the location again?

“It’s the five-hundred block of West 175th. We’ll be parked up on the left, about half a block from the place.”

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